Scent of Sakura
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: You smell spring in the air and sakura and blood, and though he smells strange in the hospital perhaps things will be all right after all. Implied shounen ai Golden Pair. December fic for the 11th.


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: Ever since the 1st of December, I have been posting one fic/update a day over at my LJ, **lumelle**. These updates have been in series of five fics sharing a theme.

The third series of five is about the five senses. This one centres around smell.

* * *

Scent of Sakura

The air smells of light and promises as you walk down the side of the road, more like bouncing really, it's such a wonderful day and you're smelling spring in the air and really you're feeling rather giddy. There are cherry blossoms dancing all around you, little pink petals clinging to your hair and landing on your nose only to flee away as you breathe, your eyes crossing as you try to catch a glimpse before it's gone for good.

There's laughter right behind you, such lovely laughter, almost as sweet as the scent of the fresh breeze, and you turn around to grin at the one who laughed. For a moment you almost consider jumping towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as usual, hiding your face in his clothes and drawing his scent deep inside yourself, that scent that invades your dreams and occupies your thoughts and keeps you entertained during classes. He's not in the same class with you, he wasn't before and he isn't now that you've moved on, but you have that pencil he once lent you and never asked you to return and even though it's been months already you could swear you can still smell his hand on it if you close your eyes and concentrate.

You don't need pencils right now, though, you have him right here with you, and though you don't hug him right now you stop for a moment and lean towards him, saying something you can't even remember what it was the moment after, it doesn't matter as long as you just had that excuse to breathe in his scent.

You continue walking backwards, it's not like you ever had trouble with balance and this way you can keep looking at him all the time, and if he yells out a warning you never remember it afterwards. Suddenly you're just being thrown to the side, you recover with a little wheel and turn to look, but by then there's already the stench of burning tires and fear and oh good the blood, you can smell the blood even when you're not breathing, it seeps into you through your very skin and you might be sick but you don't remember for sure.

*

The smell of the hospital makes you shudder the moment you step in. There are too many memories attached, memories of people getting hurt, people you care about, though never anyone you care about as much as you care about this one and really the smell makes you sick. It's kind of a clean smell, in a way, but it's not the nice and refreshing clean of a new tube of toothpaste as you open it's the first time, nor is it the comforting and warm clean of freshly washed and dried laundry that mother has piled neatly for you to take away. There's something sharp about this clean smell, something that hints at strong chemicals and an ongoing battle against dirt with fervor you've usually only seen dedicated to the court.

There's no way to escape the smell, you notice, of course there isn't, smoking and perfumes and the like aren't allowed here so the clean smell is all you get around here, the clean smell and quiet words and concerned glances and are you all right Eiji. You want to scream at them, of course you're not all right but they shouldn't be asking you anyway because you're not the one who got hurt, you're not the one because he pushed you out of the way and when you close your eyes you can still smell the blood.

You smell green tea, someone is giving you a can from the vending machine, and you thank them but you can't bring yourself to drink because he'd been drinking it just earlier today and you don't want to think of him but you can't stop thinking. After a moment someone takes the can away from you, still untouched, and you're pulled into a hug and you smell the familiar scent of Fuji's shampoo and his shirt, his shirt always smells the same, it must be something his mother uses for laundry because the pillow case smells the same whenever you're sleeping over.

It takes forever before there are any news, and when there are you can almost forget the smell of cleanliness and blood for a moment because you're so very relieved. You can't wait to see him, it takes a while but you bear the smell of the hospital, refusing to go anywhere because you need to see him and talk with him and reassure yourself it's all right.

When you finally see him he is tired, he doesn't have even the energy to speak anything but his name, but you speak all the more and perhaps even more than there's any need to, He doesn't blame you even if you blame yourself, he never says anything but you can tell by the look on his face, and suddenly it seems you can't smell the blood before but it's because you're sniffling with tears.

His hand cups your face yet it's not his, his hand never smelled like this before, his hand smells of grip tape or fish food and certainly not of this horrible cleanliness and medicine, but then you're sure he'll get back to his dear fishes soon enough won't he and even if he can't play for a good while yet he can at least hold the racquet, and at least it doesn't smell of blood anymore and maybe just maybe you'll be able to smell the spring and cherry blossoms again.


End file.
